


Still Time

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Fluff, Future, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-03
Updated: 2006-03-03
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: "He thinks it's unexpected, but not really. This is Justin, after all." Fluff; warm, fuzzy Christmas story.





	Still Time

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: This story was written for _Sharon_ at the Scrooged Community. She requested:  
 _Fluff; warm, fuzzy Christmas story_  
Thanks so much to _Ashton_ for her wonderful work as a beta!  


* * *

He hears the click of the door, and turns his head towards it just as Justin walks through. Their eyes connect across the space that separates them. There aren’t any sparks of electricity or sudden bouts of tears – it’s just them, gazes held together again after a long time.

 

A warm undercurrent of something – something Brian still dreads to define sometimes - passes through him.

 

He thinks it’s unexpected, but not really. This is Justin, after all.

 

His face portrays no emotion as he turns his attention back to the fire-place.

 

“You’re early,” he states.

 

Justin grins, walking to the coat-hanger. “I know”. He unwinds his scarf, then peels off his gloves and puts them inside his jacket’s pockets. “I just couldn’t wait”.

 

He listens, waiting patiently, as Justin hangs up his coat, removes his shoes, gradually nears the armchair where he’s sitting.

 

Though he’s trying to fight it, an involuntary smile breaks slowly across his face. He can’t help it.

 

It’s been too much time - too many phone calls in the middle of the night and too little touching, brushing each other’s skin, lips and tongues caressing.

 

All at once Brian stands up, and he finds himself directly in front of Justin. As they stare at each other, he raises a hand to Justin’s cheek, and Justin leans into the warm caress closing his eyes.

 

Now Brian really smiles, an open, inviting smile, not worrying if his feelings show. He’s resigned himself to the certainty that Justin knows him too well, has learned to distinguish every little mood shift of his, has become part of his life.

 

He cups his face with both hands and leans towards him, slowly closing the distance between their awaiting mouths.

 

+++

 

“So that’s how every Christmas is gonna be from now on,” Justin muses to himself, half-laughter in his voice.

 

They’re lying on the rug in front of the fire-place, both naked, sweaty skin and tired limbs. Their bodies are worn out, still they feel the need to be together, in whatever way they can, with arms and legs wrapped around each other.

 

The only lights in the room come from the hearth and from the tree in the corner, multicolored sparks flying across Brian’s face and making him, if it’s even possible, more beautiful than he already is.

 

A number of gifts (mainly for Gus) lie under the tree, each one of them wrapped perfectly in shiny paper, and Justin smiles and thinks he hasn’t felt this – this peace, this happiness – in over four months.

 

Brian snorts. “Gus better be arriving soon, ‘cause this show is all for him”.

 

Justin stays silent for a moment, not replying, just thinking. He thinks about how far they’ve come, and how still sometimes Brian can fall right back in his stereotypical asshole self.

 

For a moment he thinks about making him take his words back – knowing Brian would do it, if he asked. But, he realizes that that, too, is alright and acceptable, because sometimes Brian is an asshole, and it’s okay for him to be.

 

He takes Brian’s hand in his own and holds it tight. “Yeah, whatever you say,” he whispers, winking at him, brushing his other hand across Brian’s forehead, passing it through his brown locks.

 

They stay locked there for a long time, staring at the Christmas tree.

 

+++

 

The water cascades down upon their heads, splashing hotly their tilted up faces.

 

They stumbled right in the shower, hands pulling and pushing and holding, searching lips and questing tongues.

 

It’s maybe the second time they used together this shower stall, and they find it to be more comfortable than the one at the loft is.

 

When the temperature cools down a tad, Brian turns Justin so that they’re back to chest. He squirts some foam bath on his hand and slowly rubs it across Justin’s chest and all over his body, creating a white feathery lather.

 

Justin lets out a slight moan, arching into Brian’s touch, but doesn’t try to move away, or make any move at all, really.

 

It’s not something sexual, yet. He’s not doing it as foreplay to a quick fuck. He’s just enjoying the feel of touching Justin’s soft skin.

 

The vapor has fogged up the glass panels of the shower, and Justin touches a hand to it, imprinting the shape on the glass. He leans his weight mostly on his forearm, just being there.

 

Brian nuzzles his nose in the now longer hairs at Justin’s nape, rubbing up and down, inhaling deeply Justin’s addicting smell. He takes his hands down to his little hips, holding him still, and gets impossibly closer to him, his skin sticking to Justin’s, his cock sliding between round ass cheeks.

 

They both let out a grunt at the same time, Brian keeping Justin more firmly around the waist, rubbing himself against his soft ass, once, twice, three times, while Justin pushes more firmly against his dick.

 

Gasping, Brian pulls back, his hardened cock swaying in front of him. He takes a deep breath and exhales, before gently guiding Justin under the water spray and rinsing away all the suds.

 

+++

 

“You forgot one”, Brian whispers, nodding towards the gift wrapping paper scattered on the ground around them.

 

Justin looks at him confused, raising an eyebrow. He’s sitting near the tree, all the opened presents spread around the coffee table.

 

“I’m pretty sure there aren’t any presents left,” he replies, grabbing the red truck Gus cried over for nearly thirty minutes before conceding to leaving it at his dads’ house. He moves it back and forth, smiling as he remembers Brian’s happy face while giving the present to his son. It really had been a merry Christmas night.

 

He hears Brian cough slightly, so he turns in his directions and widens his eyes when Brian shows him a little gold box, held secure in the palm of his hand.

 

He looks at it suspiciously, as if it could bite him. Brian chuckles a bit, then gently hands the box to Justin.

 

“Open it,” he says, voice low and breathy.

 

Justin is still hesitant, but does as he’s been told. He unravels the red bow around it, then cautiously raises the lid. He barely takes the first look at the contents of the box, and stops.

 

He stops moving, stops breathing. He can’t do anything else but stare at the two platinum rings inside the box. Their rings.

 

“I don’t wanna ask you to marry me,” Brian says, arriving from behind and sitting near him, “not again, not now. I know you’re going back to New York in two weeks.” His voice is surreal, and somehow, unlike any other tone he’s ever used.

 

Justin doesn’t reply, but nods, keeping his head down, and his eyes averted.

 

“I know we said we don’t need to prove anything, but the truth is,” he stops for a second, taking the smaller ring, “I want us to wear these rings because we want to. Because I want the whole world to know that I am yours and… you are mine…”

 

There’s a slight question at the end of the sentence, and Justin still doesn’t look up, worried about what he could see in Brian’s eyes, worried about what his own eyes would show.

 

Justin understands and appreciates what Brian’s saying. He never thought about the rings, never thought about Brian keeping them instead of returning them, never thought that this would come up again. But now that he’s presented with the reality of them, he knows what to do.

 

He takes the ring left in the box and takes Brian’s left hand. Shaking just the littlest bit, he slides the platinum band on his ring finger, then he raises his eyes towards Brian from under his long bangs.

 

“You are mine,” he whispers fiercely, and now there’s no more hesitation in his tone or in his attitude.

 

Relieved, Brian stares for a moment at the ring he held all this time right in the palm of his hand, so tight to form an indentation, then slides it on Justin’s left hand. Looking into his eyes, he calmly repeats the same sentence, twin smiles lighting up their faces.

 

+++

 

It’s two weeks after, and there aren’t rings or manors or declarations of love that can keep the inevitable from happening – Brian has still to carry on Kinnetic in the Pitts, and Justin has still to become the next Andy Warhol in New York. They’re still going to be apart three to four months.

 

But now they’re at the airport, Brian leaning down and Justin on his tiptoes, lips smashed together and tongues sliding wetly back and forth. Two bags lie at their feet, and dozens of people run by them, some staring, others not giving a damn.

 

They interlock their fingers together and pull each other closer, the kiss dimming in ferocity but not in intensity. The speaker announces the boarding of the flight directed to New York. ‘It’s only time’ means they can afford to take the next flight, because time doesn’t matter.


End file.
